Blinder than Bats
by Queenish
Summary: Regulus Black: start to finish.
1. 1961 to 1972

_A/N: This is the first part of a little bio of Regulus Black. There will probably be only one other part, but maybe two if that's how it works out.__ The information on the Black Family is mostly from the Black Family Tree, which J.K. Rowling published. The version I consulted can be found at the Harry Potter Lexicon._

___Disclaimer: All material save the writting itself belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and a bunch of other people who aren't me._

**"_Infidels of thought_**

_**blinder than,**_

_**O yes much much blinder than**_

_**bats."**_

_**- Mark Z. Danielewski**_

After Sirius, Walburga thought she'd never have another child. She was thirty-six and with each passing year she could feel herself getting older. Married at twenty-four, it had taken her nine years to get pregnant at all, and with Sirius, Walburga believed he'd be her one and only.

So it with great surprise that she found herself missing a certain monthly event only three years after the birth her first child. She informed Orion at dinner that night, the only conversation among the strained silence.

"Hmm?" he muttered, sounding disinterested. "Well, that's lovely." he remarked and looked up at her across the table.

"Yes," said Walburga stiffly. "Lovely."

Sirius giggled and smacked his fork on the dinnerware with fervor.

---

Walburga never found it odd that she paid better attention to Regulus rather than her first-born. Regulus was the baby, with his ancestor's dark coloring and a calm, placid demeanor, unlike his brother. Sirius had been a loud and fretful child, a great annoyance to his father who would often yell loudly from his study, demanding peace and quiet.

No, Walburga thought, Regulus seemed to have more promise. Sirius complained constantly at family gatherings and functions, while Regulus sat serenely at his mother's side, docile as a puppy. Walburga would stroke his hair and offer to buy him sweets for his good behavior. Sirius would hear this and sulk; he had never been offered sweets.

"That's because you never do what you're told." Walburga said to him when they returned home, "Perhaps if you acted more like your brother does; a perfect gentleman."

Later, Sirius attempted to lock his younger brother out in the garden for the night, and it only Regulus's pleading cries that alerted Walburga. Sirius was given a hard slap across the face for that one and he cried rather pathetically in his room for hours afterwards. Walburga held a sniffling Regulus in her arms, rocking him back and forth, whispering soft lullabies in his ear until he drifted off to sleep.

---

When Sirius was eleven and Regulus was nine, Walburga found herself alone, mostly, with her favorite son. Sirius had gone off to Hogwarts, his small face beaming with excitement, and Orion spent most of his time locked away in his office, paying little attention to his wife and son.

Walburga would bring Regulus to dinner parties and other social gatherings, showing him off to the other pure-blood mothers. Druella Black and her grown daughter Bellatrix would often dote on little Regulus, for he was quiet small for his age. Walburga watched with pride as Bellatrix, who was soon to be married, remarked that Regulus was the perfect mold for the son that _she _always wanted.

That winter, Walburga found that she wasn't disappointed when Sirius sent a letter stating that he would be staying Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays. Regulus seemed rather let down that he had to wait several more months before seeing his brother again, so Walburga made it a point to pamper him all the more because of it.

"Just as well," Orion had remarked after reading Sirius's letter. "He can spend more time with those _Gryffindor _friends of his."

Orion was still sore that Sirius had disgraced the family by not being sorted into Slytherin.

---

For Regulus's eleventh birthday, along with receiving his Hogwarts letter, Walburga bought him the best, most expensive robes and supplies she could find. Sirius sulked, as usual. He had only gotten acceptable things, not the best that could be found. But for the past three summers, he had stalked through the house wearing his Hogwarts robes, all ablaze in gold and crimson.

Regulus had been waiting three agonizing years to receive his letter. Sirius had been telling him the most fantastic stories about Hogwarts: the enchanted ceiling, the Giant Squid living in the lake, the Forbidden Forrest that students weren't allowed to venture into, but Sirius claimed him and his friends had gone in dozens of times without getting caught.

Regulus didn't believe half his brother's fantastical stories, but he was still fascinated by them and everything to do with Hogwarts. Walburga on the other hand, was quite furious that her youngest son was being taken from her. Over the years, Walburga had become even more angry and bitter. Her husband's indifference and near disdain had twisted her from the kinder woman she had been.

As she kissed Regulus goodbye at Platform 9 ¾, she wished that her saliva was made of acid so that it would burn his skin.

**R/R**


	2. 1972 to 1979

_A/N: So this is the second and final part in Regulus's life. I focused much more on him than in the first part, since it is about him after all. _

_I raised the rating because there is violence and other such stuff._

_**WARNING:** There are definite spoilers for Half-Blood Prince in this! Be careful!_

_Disclaimer: All material save the writting itself belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and a bunch of other people who aren't me._

**"…_we are vagabonds,_**

_**we travel without seatbelts on**_

_**we live this close to death."**_

_**- The Decemberists**_

Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin. He sent his mother a letter, telling her so, hoping it would melt the shell of ice that had formed around her. He had been feeling it form ever since Sirius went away to Hogwarts, but he felt somehow that it had always been there, and he had been too innocent to notice.

At Hogwarts, he felt miniscule. Sirius never talked to him and all but sneered at him in the halls. As a Slytherin, he was apparently the enemy. Regulus couldn't get his head around that; they were the same blood, weren't they?

Then he found out some of Sirius's friends were _Mudbloods _and that changed everything. He told this to his mother too, feeling like a traitor but wanting to gain her trust again. She sent him letters too, but they were mostly all the same.

_"If Sirius wants to associate with filth, then he is filth as well and it isn't your concern. You should be focusing on your studies, not judging the social climate! You need to fish the Black name out of the mud, where Sirius has dragged it through so carelessly!"_

Regulus tore up these letters and flushed them down the toilet, crying quietly so no one could hear.

Regulus _did _focus on his schoolwork, but it was a lot harder than he had anticipated. Sirius had boasted how easy his lessons had been, how he was the top of every class and the favorite to every teacher. Regulus thought it would be just as easy for him, after all they were from the same family; they _should _have the same level of intelligence, right?

But apparently he was wrong about this, and almost everything else he thought he knew. He saw Mudbloods and half-bloods walk the halls beside him, sit in class next to him, and even know more about magic than _he _did. It was inconceivable. His mother continued sending him letters, which he tore up every time.

_"… you can never count on anyone but yourself. Not your brother, or your father, or even your mother. You can only hope that you can find people who still believe in the divine purity of your blood."_

_---_

Over the next few years, Regulus fought to keep his life in balance. He remembered his mother's letters, even if she never sent them anymore. He _had _found those people, who cared about his surname and the noble lineage it entailed. But they were a close knit group, and it was hard to get them to even notice him.

His classes grew harder and more complex, and Regulus continued to only be mediocre, while his brother became famous for being one of the most talented and popular student to ever grace the halls.

In Transfiguration, he kept turning his raven into a ball of yarn with feathers, and Professor McGonagall's lips thinned each time he didn't get it right. He knew what she was thinking, just like all of his teachers.

_"Sirius got it right the first time… I wonder what's wrong with this one…"_

Finally, he gave up trying to be as good as Sirius and focused more on a group Slytherins which included Malfoy, Wilkes, Rosier and other Seventh Years he had always admired. Once they realized he was a Black from _the _Blacks, they just thought of him as "Sirius's brother" and "Sirius" meant "enemy" which he was too.

One day, while he saw the group coming towards him down the hall, he spotted Lily Evans, a Mudblood in Sirius's year who Sirius had talked off constantly. He walked towards her and stuck his foot into her path. She tumbled down with a shriek, her books and papers falling everywhere.

"Mudblood…" he sneered derisively, and walked away, hoping against hope that the others had noticed him.

They had. Lucius Malfoy was looking at him in amused interest. Regulus felt his heart swell in pride. It was one of the greater moments of his life.

---

By the end of his third year, he had become _very _close with Malfoy and the others. His mother was reasonably impressed, but her icy demeanor hadn't thawed, in fact, seemed to grow thicker still.

Sirius on the other hand, was _furious. _Regulus's assault on Lily Evans had left him livid and that summer, berated Regulus almost constantly.

"Those people he hangs with, they're _awful, _evil actually, he'll meet a sticky end with them, mark my words…" he snarled one night at supper.

"And what of the kind of people _you _associated yourself with, huh?" his mother countered. "Mudbloods, blood traitors and the like? What kind of end will _you _meet?"

Sirius exploded. It was the worst fight between them Regulus had ever seen. And the last. There were many nasty insults and objects thrown at one another. Sirius had packed his bags and left that very night. Walburga blasted her son's name from the family tree with such venom that Regulus was left in awe.

---

Regulus saw his brother at Hogwarts the next autumn, but they never spoke. Sirius considered himself severed from the family for good. Regulus didn't mind. He had found better, more loyal brothers in the Death Eaters.

It wasn't until he was fifteen that he was told the truth about them, that the society stretched far beyond Hogwarts and would one day rule the world. That was their goal: to rid the world of filth and control it as was fitting and necessary.

He told his parents all that he could. Walburga was certainly proud, but wanted to be _prouder. _If he could do this and make this better… than he would erase the mistakes of his brother and restore honor to the Black name again. How could he do that? Become more powerful that all the others? He was crushed by the weight of his mother's expectations.

---

It was on his seventeenth birthday that he met the Dark Lord for the first time. He lay in bed shaking for hours afterwards. It was like witnessing an explosion of some kind: he was in awe of the sheer power and force. The carnage and pain he saw was nauseating and incredible.

Regulus and his friends had stalked through a small, Muggle village in Wales, breaking into houses and terrorizing the occupants. Then, while in a cottage where a group of small children were cowering, he felt the whole building shake on its foundations. The Dark Lord, swathed in black and brandishing a red-sparking wand, threw the door off its hinges and bore down on the trembling children. He killed every one; smashing their skulls and strewing their guts over the walls.

Afterwards, Regulus vomited in the woods and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into.

---

He was eighteen and the Dark Mark was a blazing brand on his forearm. He sat in his home, a dilapidated flat in Hogsmeade, and angrily smashed eggshells in a bowl. The violent crunching against metal made him feel better.

Earlier that day he had received a letter from his mother, the first one in over a year: his father had died. Unexpected, really. Orion Black was only fifty, very young for a wizard to die. Regulus wasn't sad or even perturbed, but he was expected to attend the funeral.

Regulus donned a black cloak and wrapped gauze around the black Mark on his arm, feeling ashamed of his weakness. In the past year, he had realized the enormity of his mistakes. He had only joined the Death Eaters so that he could have friends. Pathetic, he thought bitterly. Pathetic.

The funeral was long and pretentious. The orator went on and on about his father, saying things that didn't have the remotest bit of truth.

_"Orion Black was a loving father and husband. He cared for his family deeply and always strived to provide for them. He was greatly liked in the community."_

When it was over, Regulus took his mother home and listened for a good half hour about how worthless and unloving her older son was. Sirius hadn't come to the funeral, of course, but he had apparently acted as best man for what Walburga called "that Mudblood wedding."

Regulus didn't care in the least what his mother had to say. Whatever she thought, he believed that Sirius had made all the right choices and Regulus had made all the wrong ones. Sirius may be a Mudblood-lover but at least he didn't work for a child-killer.

---

Regulus sat on his ratty couch, in his crumbling flat, with the dull morning light flooding the room. He would be dead very shortly, but felt oddly at peace. He hadn't known that the locket hidden in the cave was an actual _Horcrux _until he had it in his hands, but he had known it was important to Voldemort, and therefore was willing to die in order to take it from him.

He hadn't been able to destroy it. The note he left was more to instill fear in the Dark Lord than to tell the absolute truth. At first, he had no idea what to do with it. The poisonous potion was running fast in his veins and the pain was incredible. He had taken a pain numbing potion to take the edge off, but he was still dying, incontrovertibly. He eventually left the locket in his mother's house, creeping through the shadows as she slept and hiding it among her many dark materials.

Regulus went to his bed and lay down. Dying wasn't really that bad, he thought. It was very much like going to sleep after a long and ultimately satisfying day. At least he had made the right choice, for once in his miserable life.

**FIN**

**---**

_A/N: For the record, "you can never count on anyone but yourself" is a reference to a line in American Beauty._

**R/R**


End file.
